


Make it Twerk

by Unforth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 17:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: On this episode of Raphael's Confessional...Dean Winchester has a job on the side. Long time boyfriend Castiel Novak doesn't know. What will he say when he finds out? Find outliveafter this word from our sponsors...





	Make it Twerk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aceriee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aceriee/gifts), [c-kaeru](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=c-kaeru).



> I've been having a bit of a rough time, guys - fatigue issues and back pain and depression and the works. And it's kinda sucked. I HAVE written, but the two things I've put words toward are for Challenges and therefore have to be kept private, and I haven't finished anything, and basically, I haven't written near as much as I wanted to.  
> But the other day I was at a doctor's office watching ridiculous daytime reality TV and I just had to take the premise and turn it into a DeanCas AU...also inspired by the crop top art that Ace and Kae have done. ❤
> 
> (I didn't edit this. I mostly wrote it to remind myself I'm capable of producing words and actually finishing shit. So. Judge accordingly.)

“You two...really don’t communicate well, do you?” said Judge Raphael, shaking her head. Castiel could only join her, shaking his head, staring blankly until the screen he’d been directed to look at blurred to oblivion.

He  _ thought _ he and Dean communicated well.

The fleshtones on the screen came back into focus, a paused image of a naked backside that could belong to anyone, except it definitely didn’t belong to just anyone.

That was Dean’s ass.

After 9 years, Castiel knew that ass, knew that backside, knew those thighs, knew those shoulders.

After 9 years, Castiel  _ thought _ he knew Dean.

How the  _ fuck  _ did they end up  _ here _ ?

“Shall we watch the video?” The Judge - she wasn’t  _ really  _ a judge, it was all a TV affectation - turned to the studio audience, who cheered raucous approval. Raphael allowed them maybe a minute to express their enthusiasm before perfunctorally slamming her gavel down to call the room to order. Squinting beneath the studio lights, Castiel looked between Raphael’s stern expression, the eager faces of the studio audience, and Dean, seated beside him.

Lip caught between his teeth, cheeks flushed, Dean wouldn’t meet Castiel’s eyes.

The video started to play.

“Welcome to my room.” Dean’s voice in the video was low, gruff, rough as when they were having sex. After 9  _ years _ , that tone still sent a shiver down Castiel’s spine and a jolt of heat to his dick.

Not that he was aroused.

Video Dean shimmied to the side to show a view of his bedroom,  _ their  _ bedroom, ass swaying.

Maybe Castiel was...a  _ little  _ aroused...just a smidge...he’d never seen this side of Dean.

Like, he’d seen Dean’s backside.

He’d watched his own cock slip between those perfect butt cheeks.

But exhibitionism?

The brazen look now gracing Dean’s face as he stared defiance at the tittering audience?

“Shall we dance?” suggested video Dean.

This was new.

Video Dean leaned to the side, pivoting his ass toward the camera, showing off the sleek lines of his gorgeous backside. Dimples formed just above the area blurred out to be TV-PG. Music kicked on, electronica with a slow, building beat. Dean swayed, shifted, thrust his ass out…

...and twerked.

Every shake of Dean’s ass matched the pounding of the base drum, sultry and suggestive. Movement rippled along his spine, popped his behind out and back, out and back, bouncing like he was being fucked. A shimmy to the side and the blur grew to hide Dean’s dick and balls, and the blurred out peach hid everything and nothing.

Video Dean had an erection.

Castiel swallowed.

Real Castiel, really on TV, in front of a real fake judge, faced by an intense and perceptive and oh-so-real studio audience, had a real erection.

Glowering, he shifted in his seat, adjusting his pants to hide his guilt. As he moved, his gaze swept over Dean. Dean look ashamed, profoundly, astonishingly contrite, lips in a thin pale line, eyes down. Their eyes met for an instant and he flinched as if Castiel had slapped him.

The music cut off.

“Well,” said Raphael, her voice as solid and unforgiving as the thwack of her gavel against wood. “That was. Something.”

_ Something incredible.  _ Dean  _ is incredible. _

“What have you got to say for yourself, Mr. Winchester?”

_ Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he ever say  _ anything _? _

“What was I supposed to say?” Dean sounded small, and helpless, and exposed even though he was fully clothed, such a painful contrast to the bold display yet paused on the screen. Castiel was captivated, his chest aching with the need to reassure him, support him, shield him, but their instructions had been clear before they went on air.

Whatever happened, whatever he saw, whatever Dean said, whatever the audience did, Castiel was supposed to wait until the Judge addressed him directly.

The audience shouted, a fracas of derision and accusation with an undercurrent of support. Dean’s silence drew out, tension growing like water pressure behind a dam. The Judge said nothing. Castiel said nothing.

Dean’s gaze flicked up to Castiel and he withered in on himself, turning toward the audience with a contrite, supplicating look.

“Look, we all have dreams, right?” Dean burst out. “And sometimes those dreams are at odds! And that sucks! I want to be with Cas--” Looking to him for an instant, Dean offered-- “I really do!” --before turning back to the jeering crowd. “--but I’ve got a  _ great  _ ass!” Laughter and agreement finally overcame the dark sounds of disapproval. “We’ve been together  _ 9 years _ and I’ve hidden this part of myself  _ all that time _ …” The longer Dean spoke, the more his confidence returned, the more straight he sat in his chair, the more defiance he directed at every individual yet speaking against him.

But he still wouldn’t look at Castiel.

_ He thinks… _

“...I just can’t do it anymore.”

_...he thinks I’ll be angry with him? _

“I’ve got 12,000 followers on YouTube.”

Dazed, Castiel looked slowly around him. More and more of the audience members were staring his direction, assessing his reaction.

“I’ve got a Patreon worth almost five hundred bucks a month.”

_...he thinks I’d stop him from doing this? _

“I’ve got a pic on Instagram with almost a  _ million _ likes!”

_...he thinks...I don’t think this is incredible? _

“And Cas... _ Cas _ …”

How  _ did we grow this far apart? _

Dean finally looked toward Castiel, anguished and beautiful. Castiel’s heart broke just a little, and his dick got just a little harder.

_ How did we let this happen to us? _

“...I don’t wanna lose you, man.”

_ How do we fix this? _

“But I...I ain’t gonna stop,” said Dean defiantly. “Not now. I got an offer from a porn studio. It’s awesome work, and good money, and I…” He withered, slowly and agonizingly, under Castiel’s unwavering expression.

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled.

The audience dulled to a buzzing in Castiel’s ears. Blood rushed through him, dizzying. His skin felt electrified, his hands shook, his muscles tensed. His heart beat loud as a damn pile driver to the tempo of the paused music in Dean’s video. His eyes were fixed on Dean, clothed in a suit, styled to the nines before him, but all he could see was that fine backside, on display, for all to see. All he could imagine was all those men, all those women, staring at Dean,  _ his  _ Dean, and getting off.

It was...a  _ stupendous  _ vision of the future.

Because the only one who  _ actually  _ got to have Dean - not Dean’s body, that was just a  _ thing _ , but Dean’s mind, and Dean’s laughter, and Dean’s unquenchable spirit, and Dean’s loyalty, and Dean’s  _ love _ ...those things were all Castiel’s.

Or they  _ should  _ be.

They’d communicated for  _ shit _ .

_ How. Do. I. Fix. This. _

“...Novak?”

Castiel blinked, the spell broken. The audience waited, silent, with bated breath. Raphael stared at him, an eyebrow quirked expressively. Dean had found a healthy dose of confidence, finally, and he looked stunning as he watched Castiel.

“I’m sorry - what did you say?”

_ What do I say? _

But still wouldn’t meet his eye.

_ How do I bring that joy back to the love of my life? _

“I appreciate what a shock this must have been for you, Mr. Novak.” The words were sympathetic but Raphael’s face was iron. “Care to share your thoughts with us?”

_ How can I make it clear, all is forgiven, all is okay, as long as I’m the one you come home to at the end of your work day? _

“Marry me,” he muttered.

_ Even if that work day involves getting fucked senseless by other men and women? _

Dean’s jaw dropped and he blinked astonishment at Castiel.

“Mr. Novak?” Raphael turned his name into a reprimand. Shaking off his befuddlement, Castiel slid out of his chair and onto his knees before Dean.

“Dean Winchester, will you marry me?” His voice came out loud, awkward, stilted, flat.

He was glad it came out at all.

“...uh…”

“Mr. Novak, are you serious?”

“...Cas?”

“I will watch every video you make,” said Castiel. “I will go to every gala porno opening. I will ignore your hickies. I will support you in everything you do, no matter what you do…”

The audience applauded.

“...on one condition…”

A collective  _ oooooo  _ hissed through the room.

Dean swallowed.

Raphael watched, eyes narrowed.

“...the credits have to name you as Dean  _ Novak _ .”

Utter silence fell.

Dean, wide-eyed, finally truly  _ looked  _ at Castiel, their gazes meeting. A blush and a smile slowly overtook his expression.

“Well, Mr. Winchester?” asked Raphael, tone finally warming. “What do you say?”

Dean’s gaze raked the judge, the audience, the cameras, the flashing  _ On Air  _ sign, and returned to Castiel.

“For real?” he whispered.

“Be my husband, Dean.” Castiel smiled.

Speechless, a single tear beading over his cheek, Dean nod.

The audience broke into cacophonous approval.

Chest swelling with feeling, Castiel jumped up, swept Dean with him, drew his boyfriend...his  _ fiance _ ...into a not-at-all TV-PG kiss.

“There you have it,” Raphael announced.

_ That’s how I fix it. _

“...this most  _ unusual  _ case…”

_ That’s what we’re doing here. _

“...another relationship problem  _ solved _ …”

“I love you,” Castiel whispered.

“...on Raphael’s Confessional!”

“Only you,” murmured Dean. “Always yours.”

The studio audience applauded.

The  _ On Air  _ sign flashed off.

“But you better get me a ring,” Dean added.

Grinning, Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out the box he’d stashed there that morning.

“You...you  _ planned  _ all this?” snapped Dean.

_...not exactly... _

“Thanks for ratings boost, guys,” Raphael laughed.

_...but I had some idea... _

“...but...I...I never--” Dean spluttered.

_...but we wouldn't be here if it was for The Drama, and even if we don't communicate well...I know you, Dean, and I know that there's nothing you could reveal that would make me love you less... _

“Shut up and kiss me,” Castiel interrupted.

_ You’re my dream, Dean. I should tell him that. I should tell him everything I've thought today. He deserves to know. _

The audience’s applause made a wonderful backdrop as Dean enthusiastically, eagerly, lovingly complied.

_ I’m so glad we did this. _

 


End file.
